


Landlocked

by Batshit_Bogs



Series: Why Adopt Kids When You Can Adopt Merpeople [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Depression, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Mentions of Violence, Talia is a manipulative creep in this, Thoughts of Suicide, ayyy Jay's back yall, in my docs this is titled 'Jay is salty abt being alive', though it's more implied than anything, uhhh how do i tag this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27750493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batshit_Bogs/pseuds/Batshit_Bogs
Summary: Under the sea, there’s a collective agreement that one would rather die than live without the ocean.Jason wishes he could be dead.-Jason would be much happier if the Joker had dumped the rest of him overboard, instead of this permanent hell.
Relationships: Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd
Series: Why Adopt Kids When You Can Adopt Merpeople [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976269
Comments: 29
Kudos: 141





	Landlocked

**Author's Note:**

> FULL DISCLOSURE : the credit for the 'Jason comes back but has legs now' idea goes entirely to @ [Symeona](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/symeona) on Tumblr & Insta. (go check out their art it's god tier stuff y'all. Also their mermay art are what sparked my inspo for this au so 👀)
> 
> And a thank you to my wonderful friend who beta-ed this. The quality is much improved with her help uwu
> 
> **CWs**  
>  _\- swearing  
>  \- death mentions  
> \- Talia is being an uncomfy manipulative creep_
> 
> If I missed anything lemme know

To a mer, the ocean is the soul of the world. It is the heart of every being in existence, where life began, and where it will surely end. 

Every mer fears being taken from it. There’s an instinctive fear even in the smallest fry of being dragged from the spirited waves, never to return. Under the sea, there’s a collective agreement that one would rather die than live without the ocean.

Jason wishes he could be dead. 

He hates this new life - no, he refuses to call it life. It’s a fucked up, cruel existence that he’s trapped in, one he can’t escape. If he were braver, maybe he’d do himself in, but if there’s one thing Jason is terrified of, it’s dying again. He’s done it once, and would not recommend doing it a second time. It. Sucked.

Still, _fuck_ Talia for bringing him back. She acts like it’s some miracle that the Lazarus Pit worked in fully bringing him back to life - fully, because apparently some scientists _tinkered_ with his mangled half body. Somehow they managed to restart his heart, not that Jason remembers any of that. Talia told him that although his ‘life’ was restored, his brain was essentially a useless pile of mush until he went for a dunk in the pit.

Isn’t that a fantastic thought?

Not only was he sawed in half, but some scientists forced his body into a shitty state of living so that they could, like, play with him. Ew, no, okay, Jason is not letting his brain go down that path. He does _not_ want to know what they did to him before Talia took him. His mutilated torso got passed around like a half-eaten bag of chips - _nope._ Bad brain.

“Jason.”

Jason grunts from where he’s lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t feel like replying much more than that.

“It’s time to go for a walk,” Talia says.

“Yeah, no,” Jason replies bitterly. He doesn’t want to use the… the _things_ attached to his body. 

Talia makes a disapproving noise and comes closer. The bed dips as she sits on the edge and says, “A breath of fresh air will help you feel better.”

It won’t. Jason clenches his fists and pointedly does not look at her. A breath of fresh air will _not_ make him feel better, especially since it’s sea air. He doesn’t want any more reminders that he’s cut off from the ocean. Really, why did she think it would be a good idea to keep him in a seaside base? 

Talia rests her hand on Jason’s ankle, and he flinches. He hates the feeling of his - he doesn’t want to think the word - being touched. The feeling of dry sheets under him is bad enough, as are the shorts he’s forced to wear. Human anatomy sucks - no respectable creature has everything on the _outside,_ what the _fuck_. 

“It would be a shame,” Talia says as she slowly drags her hand up his shin and over his knee, “to let these beautiful legs waste away.”

Jason bites back a scathing retort. He’s trying not to physically recoil at the sensation of her hands on his bare skin. If he recoils, then he’ll move them, and if they move, then he’s forced to acknowledge that they exist--which they do, but not when he can’t see or move them. They’re Schrodinger’s appendages. 

“Come now, pet, staying cooped up in your room all day is bad for your health,” Talia continues. Her hand comes to rest on Jason’s lower thigh, partly on the cut of his shorts. 

Jason has never liked being touched much. When he was a pup, he didn’t mind it when his mom held him or smoothed out his fins, but she was an exception. Willis was an abusive dick and kind of ruined touch for him, as did many others after Catherine died. The only other exception to Jason’s aversion was Bru - he cuts that thought off and viciously buries it. He doesn’t want to think about that bastard now, or ever.

“There are a lot of things bad for my health,” Jason snaps, “like being forced to live next to the ocean.”

Talia tuts. “You must re-learn how to swim, Jason.”

“No the fuck I _don’t.”_

What’s the point of re-learning if he can’t even swim properly. He’s seen humans swim, and frankly, it’s _pathetic._ They flop around like dying fish. Oh, and there’s that little matter of not being able to breathe underwater, which is like a constant punch to the gut. Jason doesn’t need that reminder, nor does he need to feel like he’s being mocked every time he tries to feel some semblance of normal. 

As if he could feel normal even if he tried. Hell, he’s twice the size he was when he was last alive. That fucks him up as it is.

“Jason,” Talia says more sternly. “This is not an option. We need to talk.”

“We can talk here.” 

_Please,_ Jason doesn’t say. _Please don’t make me use them._

Talia lifts her hand to gently pat his chest. “It will be good to get used to them. Come, dinner is waiting for us at the end of our walk.”

Jason hates how his stomach clenches at the thought of food. Nothing was brought to him in the morning or afternoon, which, in hindsight, is probably a tactic to make him more willing to walk. It won’t work, though. 

Totally not.

Fuck, it’s working. 

“Fine,” Jason spits. Fuck Talia, fuck Ra’s, fuck the pit. Fuck everything. 

Talia stands up and moves to the doorway to wait patiently as Jason gets up. He slowly shifts on the bed, and oh, right - he completely forgot he still has his back fin. Why that stayed when his gills didn’t, he has no idea. It drags against the sheets uncomfortably as he turns sideways, grimacing as he moves ‘them.’ 

It feels like ages until he sits up, the simple motion sending twinges of pain up his spine. Jason tries not to make a sound as his bare feet find the cold ground, knowing that he can’t make the right noise. His damn vocal cords won’t allow for any more clicks or whistles, not the way it’s supposed to. 

Standing is a feat all on its own. New muscles ache and pull as Jason pushes himself upright, albeit shakily. He stands for about three seconds before he loses his balance and falls back onto the bed, and he growls and slams his fist down on the silky sheets.

“Patience, pet,” Talia soothes. 

_Patience patience patience_ , she can get her own fucking patience and shove it up her - deep breaths, Jason. She’s trying to help. Even though he doesn’t want her to and fights her at every turn, she’s helping. 

Jason clenches his jaw and tries again. He widens his foot stance this time, and he manages to not fall over. He’s only tried standing a handful of times to make it to the bathroom and back, but those short trips ended with new bruises and aching limbs. Now, almost a full minute is the longest he’s ever stood without assistance.

Yipee-fucking-do. 

“You’re doing splendidly, Jason,” Talia says, smiling. 

“Whatever,” Jason says under his breath. He balls his fists as he takes a tentative step forward, hating how heavy he feels. It’s like there are weights on his shoulders. 

He makes it a couple of wobbly steps before he careens to the side and overbalances. Talia is there in a flash, ducking under his arm and supporting his weight before he can crash (painfully) to the ground. Jason swears under his breath as she helps him re-balance.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

“You’re already doing better,” Talia says. She keeps one hand on his back, right under his fin, and the other stays on his stomach. Surprisingly, it’s helping him balance.

Jason hums noncommittally, and she helps him over to the door. There, he leans against the doorjamb to catch his breath, and she steps back to give him room. He never imagined walking could be so difficult. Humans always made it look so effortless, the way they ran and skipped and jumped. Jason is starting to think you have to be born human to move like that, and he’s never going to get to that level. Maybe he’s cursed to be struggling forever.

“Ready to continue?” Talia asks. She gestures down the hallway. “Dinner is this way.”

Jason takes one last deep breath before nodding and pushing off of the doorjamb. The floor of the hallway is rough, but not unpleasantly so, like sandstone. It’s better than the weirdly smooth hardwood of Jason’s room - this feels more natural. 

They make it halfway down the hallway before Jason stumbles again, but this time the wall catches him instead of Talia.

“For fuck’s sake,” he hisses. The wall is made of the same material as the floor, and the rough surface scrapes against his shoulder as he leans against it. “You’re sure dinner can’t be brought here?”

Talia nods. “This is necessary for your progression. The walk isn’t long.”

Maybe it isn’t by her standards, but Jason already feels like he’s swum a mile nonstop. The idea of retracing his steps and flopping back into that uncomfortable bed is tempting, but the promise of food is even more so. 

Jason forces himself to keep walking and loathes every awkward, unwieldy step. Talia stays close by, offering her help whenever he takes a particularly uneven step, but they make it to the double doors at the end of the hallway without further incident. 

“Tell me food is right behind these doors,” Jason pants, once again leaning against the wall. His… not-tails are trembling, and he isn't even moving anymore. And they _ache._ Seriously, how do humans do this so casually, day in and day out?

Talia gives him a small smile as she grabs the door handles. “Of course it is. I don’t want to overwork your legs.”

Jason grimaces at the word and nods for her to continue. She pulls in a little, just enough for an audible click, then pushes forward. The doors swing outward without a creak, and fresh air flows into the hallway.

The smell of the sea slams into Jason like an undertow.

The sight laid out before him almost makes him crumble to the ground.

It’s an open-air pavilion with a table set up in the center. Plates, food, and candles are set on it, and the two chairs are plush. The pavilion is lined with white curtains that billow gently in the warm breeze, and between them lays the ocean.

Jason’s breath hitches in his chest. This… it… he can’t think properly. He stumbles forward, clumsily making his way to the railing and clutching it in a white-knuckled grip as he stares over the beach to the eternal blue stretch beyond. 

He’s never seen water so blue. It’s a vivid shade that Jason has only ever seen in pictures, and its brilliant hues are only enhanced by the setting sun. The white sand beach drifts into the shoreline in pale whorls, like the tide is leeching the grains from the land. The water is so clear that he can see elaborate reefs fading into the deep.

It’s… it’s the most beautiful thing Jason has ever seen.

He’s always wanted to see the tropics. 

But not like this.

“Breathe,” Talia murmurs, rubbing his back. Jason gasps in a stuttering breath - he hadn’t realized that he had stopped breathing, but now he just can’t seem to make his lungs work. He squeezes his eyes shut and tightens his grip on the railing, the metal pressing uncomfortably against his palms. 

It’s right there. The ocean is _right there,_ and Jason can’t… it’s right there and he can’t even…

The first real breath Jason takes comes out as a sob. So does the next, and the next. He blinks and suddenly he’s on the floor, crying his heart out in Talia’s arms. In the back of his mind the rational part of him is beating him for breaking apart like this. But right now, Jason couldn’t give less of a damn.

None of this is fair. 

He must have said something, because Talia whispers into his hair, “Ssh, I know, love. You deserve so much more than this.”

“Why me?” Jason gasps, his voice hoarse from the tears he’s shed. “Why couldn’t you have let me stay dead?”

“Oh, my pet, that was out of my control. I had no say in whether you lived or not, so it is all I can do to make sure you make the most of your second chance.”

Jason doesn’t _want_ a second chance. This isn’t even a chance, this is hell. 

Somehow Talia manages to get him upright and into one of the chairs. The cushions are plush as Jason sinks into them, and he hates it. He hates the sensation of sitting, of walking, of lying down and just being dry _all the time._ He hates that he’s facing the ocean, that each breath he takes is crisp with the taste of the sea.

“We can go down to the beach once you’re ready for it,” Talia says as she takes her own seat and begins to dish herself food.

Jason presses his lips in a firm line, blinking away the remaining wetness from his eyes. There’s an aching in his chest, or it might be a void. It’s a new sensation, and he isn’t sure how to process it. It _hurts_.

He mutters, “No. I’m not going down there.”

Talia sighs and gives him a stern look. “You have to-”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything. This is… it’s torture enough, okay? Just don’t. _Please,_ Talia.”

“Alright,” Talia says softly. “We won’t go any closer yet. For now, we eat.”

The ‘yet’ is something Jason winces at, but he doesn’t argue further. 

The spread laid out before him is impressive, if a little intimidating. Admittedly, it smells delicious, and it’s a welcome distraction from the shimmering expanse beyond the pavilion. One of the bowls in front of him is full of a thick stew-like dish, one that Jason doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t recognize any of this food. It’s nothing like what Al - _no. Don’t think about them._

Jason wishes he could take the food inside, but he doesn’t trust his ability to walk back to his room. One of the servants comes forward and serves him a plate before he can force himself to move, and he tries not to be irritated by it. They serve him some of the ‘stew’ and a chunk of bread. 

It tastes… surprisingly good once he takes a bite. It overcomes the nausea the smell of the ocean brings, and it stings his tongue with spices and bursting flavor. It’s almost enough to distract him from the sight in the edges of his vision. Almost. 

“I will be busy tomorrow,” Talia says conversationally as Jason starts on his second helping.

Oh, great. His one source of semi-decent company is abandoning him.

“My son has a lesson that I need to be a part of.

Jason almost chokes on his food. “Your _what?”_

“My son,” Talia repeats. 

Okay, so maybe Jason has only been here for two weeks, but she never so much as _mentioned_ having a son. It’s honestly a weird thought that Jason isn’t sure he likes.

“You, uh, you never said that you have a son,” he says awkwardly.

“Did I not?” Talia waves her hand dismissively. “Must not have come up in conversation. Damian stays on the other side of the compound and knows to keep to himself. I assure you he will not bother you.”

That’s good to know. Jason isn’t particularly interested in interacting with Talia’s brat. Ever. 

Dinner progresses peacefully from there. Thankfully Talia doesn’t try to prompt any more conversation, and Jason is more than happy to eat in silence. If only he couldn’t hear the damn waves lapping at the beach, or the gulls swooping through the air -

“I’m done,” Jason says, pushing himself to his feet. He can’t do this, he thought he could, but he _can’t._

“So soon?” Talia asks, standing as well.

“Lost my appetite.” It’s not exactly a lie. Jason manages to hobble his way to the door they came through without falling over. He pushes on it with no results, and to further his embarrassment his eyes are stinging with unshed, frustrated tears.

Talia grabs the handles and pulls, and the door opens. Because of _course_ it’s a pull door. Fuckin’ doors. Fuckin’ humans. It’s all a load of whale shit.

Jason stumbles into the hallway, and as soon as the doors close behind him he feels like he can breathe again. The hall smells stale. It’s a relief from the crisp ocean air. 

“Come,” Talia says, walking ahead.

“Fuck’s sake - I’m going back to my room.”

“It’s on the way. I have something to show you.”

“Fuckin…” Jason huffs and forces himself to follow. Everything below the waist is aching, along with his spine, and all he wants to do is collapse and be dead to the world for a few hours. He already knows he’s going to be sore as hell tomorrow. But Talia said what she wants him to see is on the way, so… fine. He’ll bite.

True to her word, Talia takes him to a door halfway down from his room. It swings open to reveal a spacious room lit by lamps, though it looks like the skylights provide enough light during the day. There’s a globe next to a wood table, there are armchairs in the corner, and a fireplace takes up half of a wall. The rest of the walls are lined with shelves, some containing trinkets. The others contain…

“Books,” Jason breathes. Many, many books. Never in his life has he seen so many in one place. Embossed lettering shines in the lamplight, and the smooth surfaces have a dull sheen to them. 

The room itself smells like fresh paper. 

If Jason could fall in love with a room, he’d be head over heels right now.

“I thought you might like a space other than your small, dusty room,” Talia purrs, striding into the library. “Will this suffice?”

“This will… this’ll…” Jason is at a loss for words as he follows her in. Not a single coherent thought enters his mind other than the idea that he can read these. He can touch them, _hold_ them. He was rarely allowed to hold books, just in case he got them wet or tore them with his claws. But now… now he can pick them up.

He shuffles to the nearest shelf to pull out a book. It’s weighty in his hands, and the surface is nicely textured against his palms. Jason exhales as he smooths a clawless hand over the cover. It’s Shakespeare - Othello. He never did finish this one.

“You know where your room is,” Talia says. “I trust you’ll be able to find your way back?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, totally.” Jason is only half listening as he eases himself into an armchair. It hurts, but he doesn’t care when a _book_ is in his hands. 

Why the hell didn’t Talia tell him about this a week ago? Why now?

Jason looks up to ask her just that, but she’s already gone. Later, then. 

For now, Jason opens the book and begins to read.

-

Jason spends a few weeks in the library. He only goes back to his room to sleep, and that’s just because when he fell asleep in his chair, he woke up with excruciating pins and needles. And his back hurt. And his neck. And every-fucking-thing else. 

Humans suck. Has Jason mentioned that?

Talia has been spending a lot of time with him, too. Sometimes she vanishes for a day, but when she comes back her attention is already focused on him. She’s been helping Jason strengthen his not-tail muscles, along with his ability to balance. When he reads something new, she’s there to talk to about it, and she always listens with patience and replies with her own thoughtful comments. 

They eat dinner and breakfast together, though they haven’t gone to the pavilion again. Usually they go to a courtyard, which is a few hallways in the other direction and surrounded by buildings. Jason can still smell the sea air and hear the gulls, but it’s less agonizing when he can’t see the ocean. Talia checks up on him during their meals.

It’s… really nice. Talia wasn’t this attentive during Jason’s first two weeks here, and it’s a change he isn’t complaining about. It’s helping Jason feel less like dying. He’s definitely still miserable, just less so.

They’re in the library now - she’s pouring tea into cups as he looks for something new to read. Standing for prolonged periods of time isn’t exactly _easy_ yet, but it’s not as bad as it was before. That might be because he’s using _them_ more, which he tries not to think about. 

One of the books on the shelf behind the globe catches his eye. Jason walks over to it with barely a wobble in his steps (something he is _not_ proud of at all) and gently pulls it from between two less dusty tomes. It’s surprising he hasn’t seen this one yet - he’s combed every inch of the shelves by now.

It’s cover is a dull black with deep green lettering in a language he doesn’t recognize. Jason frowns as he opens the battered book, and it only deepens as he sees the state of the pages. The edges are torn, some are burned, and there are water stained patches. The black ink is faded, and many letters are smudged beyond recognition. 

Every other book in this room is kept in perfect condition. Why is this one so battered?

“What language is this?” Jason asks as he crosses the room and sits in his usual chair. 

Talia pauses at the sight of the book and sets down the teapot. She folds her hands in her lap and says, “That, my love, is sirenspeak.”

“Sirenspeak?” Jason echoes.

“Yes. It is an ancient language, which… Jason, would you like to hear a story?”

Jason raises an eyebrow at the abrupt change in subject. “Oookay. Sure.”

Talia nods and stands to retrieve something from the shelf the damaged book came from. She takes her time dragging her nails over the spines until she pulls one out. Jason’s confused frown vanishes as he sees the same black cover and green lettering as the book he’s holding. 

“This,” Talia says, reclaiming her seat and opening the book, “is the story of the sirenfolk.”

Her book is just as damaged as the one Jason has, though the content is different. Instead of smudged lettering, the first page displays a faded painting. A shiver runs down his spine and makes his back fin stand on end as he recognizes the shapes. 

The picture is split in half. On one side, there are stylized depictions of mers. They’re all facing the split, and all carry spears. On the other half of the split there are creatures that _look_ like mers, but aren’t in a way Jason can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe it’s the lack of fins, save for the tails. Or the clawless fingers. Maybe it’s the elaborate clothing they wear - green with gold accents. 

“They once shared the sea with the merfolk, a very long time ago,” Talia continues. “Both sides kept to themselves, though they sometimes traded goods.”

She turns the page, revealing a painting of the sirens handing the mers baskets of what looks like cloth, and the mers giving the sirens fish. Behind the traders were two mers holding spears and facing off against a sea monster against what was once a dark blue background. Behind the sirens is a reef, where their people weave baskets and lounge on coral.

“The merfolk were hunters of the cold depths. They would bring their mighty catches to the sirenfolk to trade for their weavings and art. The sirens, on the other hand, were much more peaceful. They spent their days enjoying the warm shallows, and although they did not need the merfolk’s fish, they traded out of sympathy. It was a peaceful understanding.”

The next page depicts something that makes Jason clench his jaw to keep from gasping. The sirens are _walking out of the water._ Their tails transform into legs as they emerge onto the beach, and their clothing falls around their forms, weighted down without the water around them. 

“The sirenfolk’s life in the shallows was no accident.” Talia crosses her legs as she speaks. “They had the innate ability to change their tails into legs. They lived a life in the sea, and one on land. They were celebrated as higher beings by the humans, and in turn they taught the humans how to fish and swim.”

The bottom of the next page shows the mers. They’re making spears as the biggest one glares at the top of the page, where the sirens are yet again on a reef, playing and relaxing. 

“However, the merfolk grew jealous of the sirenfolk’s easy life,” Talia says. The bitterness in her voice catches Jason off guard. “They thought it was unfair that they had to live in the cold while their cousins spent their days in the sun.”

Another page turns. The sirens are pleading with the mers here - they look small and weak beneath the mers’ looming figures. A pit in Jason’s stomach grows heavier as he takes in the details. A siren mother holding her children in fear. Furious mers brandishing spears at the helpless, weaponless sirens. 

“The sirenfolk tried to ease their troubles. They offered them a life on the reef with them, as there was plenty of room and food to grow around. But it was not enough for the merfolk. They were not only jealous of the sirenfolk, but disgusted by them, too. The merfolk found their ability to grow legs repulsive. Unnatural.”

The following page makes Jason’s stomach turn over, and he clasps a hand over his mouth as he fights down nausea. 

The mers are ripping the sirens’ tails from their bodies, revealing legs underneath. They’re tearing the scales off with their claws, and the sirens are _screaming._ They’re struggling and trying to escape to the land.

There’s blood and laughter and a fucking _saw -_ Jason inhales a shaky breath and blinks rapidly. No, that’s… that was then. There’s no blood on the paper. There’s no saw. He’s okay. He’s not on the boat. 

Talia sneers as she whispers, “They tore away the sirenfolk’s tails completely. They thought that the sirenfolk did not deserve the ocean at all, that it belonged to the merfolk.”

Jason’s heart is pounding in his chest, both from the panic attack he barely staved off and the implications of the story. 

The last page is another split. The mer side shows them reveling in the reef, brandishing shed tails like trophies and destroying the siren-made baskets. The siren’s side, however… it shows the unfortunate creatures kneeling at the ocean’s edge, screaming and sobbing. 

Grieving the loss of the sea.

It’s a feeling Jason knows all too well. 

“The sirenfolk were forced to live away from the sea, unable to return. Meanwhile, the merfolk destroyed all traces of another ocean race and took over waters that were once populated by siren families.” Talia sighs and turns to the last page.

It shows the sirens over a period of time. The left of the page shows the sirens being taken in by the humans, and a statue is built for them. By the time Jason’s eyes get to the end, the statue has crumbled, and the sirens are indistinguishable from the humans. 

“Hundreds of years passed,” Talia murmurs, saddened by something Jason is starting to understand, “and the sirenfolk were forgotten. The humans that once idolized them didn’t recognize their names. Eventually, the sirenfolk gave up hope of ever returning to the sea - for each time they tried, the merfolk drove them back to the land. Here they live, forever longing for the waters they once thrived in.”

The book closes, and its gentle snap makes Jason flinch. 

“That’s just a story though,” he says as Talia stands to return the book.

She hums. “Perhaps. But aren’t all stories borne of truth?”

There’s no fucking way, but… if the sirens were real, and the story is true… the nausea in Jason’s stomach worsens.

“Come,” Talia says, waiting by the door. “There is something you need to see.”

Usually when she says that it means walking, which normally Jason is not up for. Now, though, he gets up without protest and follows. She leads him further than he’s ever been, and by the time they get to a set of dark double doors, he’s shaking from exertion. 

Talia opens the doors without a creak, and Jason’s jaw literally drops.

The space beyond is gorgeous. Lush green plants line the sides of the ceiling-less room. Small waterfalls pour into ponds, which have streams crisscrossing the mossy stone floor. Butterflies flit in the open air.

At the end of the room is the statue from Talia’s storybook. 

There’s a siren still with their tail, lying on the ground and smiling. The other siren has legs and is holding a squirt that still has its tail. The squirt is reaching for the three humans, who are either kneeling or holding their hands out towards the sirens as if in prayer. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Jason breathes. He leans heavily against the door.

Hold on. The book showed the sirens wearing green and gold clothing, which, now that he thinks about it, looked a hell of a lot like what Talia wears. 

“You’re…”

“A siren,” Talia finishes. “Yes. The Al-Ghuls are the last of the ancient sirenfolk royal clans.”

Jason sinks to the floor, where he drops his head in his hands.

It’s all true. He’s from a race that committed fucking _genocide,_ and he had no idea. How many mers know about this? All of them? None of them? How could anyone do something like this?

“Jason,” Talia says gently. She kneels and lifts his chin with her hand. “Did you know that the Lazarus Pit should not have restored you with legs?”

Jason’s chest feels like it’s tightening by the second, and he can only stare at her, confused.

“It only would have given you legs if you were not entirely mer. It sensed the other side of you, my pet.”

It… does she mean…

“I’m half siren?” Jason whispers.

Talia smiles. “Precisely. It is why no one came to save you, and why you have been given a second chance.”

Jason’s head swims. It… fuck, it makes _sense._ He’d been unable to fall asleep night after night, wondering why no one had come when he was screaming. They abandoned him because they wanted to get rid of him. Because he’s half siren.

“The merfolk pretend to own the sea,” Talia continues. Something dangerous glints in her eye, though Jason doesn’t know what it is. “We can take it back. You can help us.”

“I… I…” He doesn’t know what to do. “I need to think.”

Talia’s determined features smooth out, and she brushes her thumb over Jason’s cheek. “Of course, my dear. Take as long as you need. Shall we go back?”

Jason nods, and she helps him stand. He barely makes the trip back to his room, and he collapses on the bed as soon as it’s within reach. Talia sits by him as he shakes, overcome by the day’s revelations and what it means.

Eventually, he falls asleep.

-

After that day, Jason doesn’t go back to the library. If he’s not holed up in his room, reliving memories and trying not to think about his ancestry, then he’s in the courtyard. Mostly because Talia forces him to be there at least once every few days. Something about his health or whatever.

Fuck, Jason can’t get her words out of his head. He’s half siren. He was left to die because the mers want to eradicate all of his kind from the sea.

When… when did he start thinking about the mers as separate entities? And sirens as his kind? 

This is all so fucked up.

A presence at Jason’s side drags his eyes away from a bird that landed in the courtyard. It’s Talia - of course it’s Talia. Who else would it be? The only other humans Jason has seen have been servants.

“Do you recognize this mer?” She asks, holding out her phone. 

Jason heaves a sigh and glances at the screen. It’s a picture of a young mer - a pup, he’d say. The sight of him makes Jason’s skin crawl for the reasons he’s been trying not to think about. The mer has orange scales and a mop of black hair.

“No,” Jason deadpans. 

Talia hums and zooms out on the picture, and Jason forgets how to breathe entirely. 

Bruce is with the pup, and although he isn’t smiling it’s clear that he wants to. Not only that, but _Dick_ is there, too. Grinning at the pup with more fondness than he ever showed to Jason. 

“They replaced me,” Jason chokes out. He hasn’t even been dead for two months and Bruce fucking Wayne _replaced_ him. With a bright and shiny new pup. 

Something wretched rises from the back of his mind - something _green._

Jason is standing and throwing a punch at the nearest wall before he realizes he’s moving. He yells and punches blindly, not caring as his knuckles split and blood drips down his wrist. All he can see is green and those stupid orange scales from his fucking _replacement_. 

His angered cries turn to sobs, and he slides down the wall to bury his face in his knees. Everything hurts. _Existing_ hurts. Jason thought… he thought Bruce was his dad. He thought he was _loved._

“Did he even try to save me?” Jason whispers between heaving breaths. 

Talia tuts sympathetically and sits next to him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into her warm embrace.

“No, my love,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, but he did not care.”

Something in him snaps. 

“We can make him pay,” Talia continues. “He’s trying to help the merfolk keep the sea to themselves. We can change that. You can have revenge… both for yourself, and our kind.”

Jason grits his teeth as his sobs subside under a wave of that same green _something._ It fills him with what he’s been missing ever since he came back - purpose. 

They left him to die. They let him be replaced. They let him suffer an imaginable fate. 

“I want to make him - all of them - _pay,"_ Jason hisses.

Talia’s smile is dangerous.

But so is he.

**Author's Note:**

> TALIA IS A LYING ASS SNAKE!!!! Jason is _not_ half siren. She's just saying that to get her on his side. Also!!! No, Jay does NOT remember Tim. Bringing him back stole some memories, including the months leading up to his death. Oh, and she's also clearly lying about Bruce not trying to save Jay. He got there like...a minute after Jason died 🙃 but we'll go into that another time
> 
> Also uh it brings me no joy to write Talia like this. Normally I like it when she's doing her best given the circumstances, but this au called for her being the worst version of herself so...sorry
> 
> But yeah thank y'all for reading!!!! Leave a comment if you'd like, they feed me uwu
> 
> Run me over with a llama @ [Batshit-Birds](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/batshit-birds) on Tumblr


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